LOGAN: The Last Mutant
by kenxepe
Summary: Takes place some time in between The Wolverine and Logan. After losing Jean and the other X-Men, Logan is dealing poorly with loneliness, loss, guilt, anger, and all kinds of strange things that are trying to kill him.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Logan, and I make no money from this fan fiction.

The Last Mutant

by

Rhonnel Ferry

I'm the best there is at what I do. I should be. I'm the only one left. The last mutant.

"What are you thinking?" Jean asks.

I turn my head, and see this beautiful woman, the love of my life, lying next to me, resting her pretty little redhead on my arm. I brush a lock of hair from her face, caress her soft cheek.

"I'm thinking of you, silly," I answer.

She smiles, bites her lower lip, then gives me a playful jab to the chest.

"Seriously, what are you thinking?"

I sigh, "I'm thinking how a long time ago, I thought I was the only one. The only mutant. It was hard at first. Lonely. Being different from everyone else. But I got used to it. Then I met all of you. You, Chuck, Rogue,... And then I wasn't alone anymore. I was happy."

She gently touches my face.

I continue, "But it didn't last. Just like that, you were all gone. No new mutants were being born. And I'm right back where I started. Alone. Except now, it's harder. Because I know what I lost. Sometimes, I wish I never met you. Then I wouldn't know what it's like to lose you-"

"Shhh, silly," she interrupts me. "If you never met me, how would you be able to dream of me?"

#

I wake up alone in bed. Staring up at the slow moving ceiling fan. Still dressed in the same clothes I wore last night. An empty bottle of Whiskey next to me.

Keep dreaming of dead people. Part of me wants to just pop out the claws, tear up the sheets. But I don't make enough to keep replacing the bed covers. And it gets cold at night when you're alone.

I force myself up, sit on the edge of the bed, and groan. Musta' sat like that, unmoving, wallowing in self-pity for a few good minutes. All part of the daily routine. Then I head to the fridge, uncap another bottle of whiskey, take several swigs. And just like that, I'm right as rain.

Almost.

I gotta go see Rose.

#

Rose, as you may have already guessed, is a hooker. Yes, she has long red hair, too. All the shrinks in the world can have a field day with that, if they want. See, my life is all about dulling the pain. The drinking, the smoking, that takes care of the physical and mental torment. Rose takes care of a different kind of ache.

"Hello?" I hear her sweet voice on the other line.

"Hey, it's Logan. You with somebody? Can I come over?"

"Sure. I'm free. Come on over," then a pause. "You OK, baby?"

"Uhm...I will be."

I hear her giggle. "Oh, I can guarantee that."

We have this arrangement, Rose and I. I provide her with muscle. You know, protection. Or when she needs me to put the fear of God into someone, like former pimps or difficult clients. In exchange,... Well, you know what in exchange.

#

I'm the best there is at what I do. And what I do these days is drive a cab. It's temporary. Soon I'll have enough money saved up to get a Chrysler limo. Start a limousine service or something.

I get in the cab, switch on the off duty lights, and drive towards Rose's apartment building.

Then I see this Poindexter on the sidewalk. Short guy, balding, thick glasses, suitcase under his arm. He's desperately trying to hail a cab. They're all just passing him by. I hate it when other cabbies do that. It gives us a bad name. So I stop for 'em. Maybe it's the good Samaritan in me. I don't know.

"Oh, thank God!" he exclaims when I pull over.

"Where to, bub?" I ask.

"I'd like to hire your cab for about an hour."

"An hour? It's gonna cost ya'."

"Money is not a problem!"

I nod. "Alright. Get in."

He hops in the back and gives me directions. I start driving, then give Rose a call on my cellphone.

"Hello?" she answers.

"Hey, it's me. I'm sorry. Picked up a passenger. Gonna be a little late. About an hour. Is that OK?"

"Yea, that's fine. Is she cute?"

I laugh. "It's a guy."

"Right through there," the passenger instructs me.

"Whoa. That's gang territory," I inform him. "Are you sure? Didn't you hear about the gang war that happened here a couple of weeks ago? It was a massacre!"

"I know. I know. It'll be fine," he assures me. But he does so nervously, which isn't exactly very reassuring.

"Logan, what's going on?" Rose asks.

"Every thing's OK, baby. I'll call you back," I tell her, then disconnect.

I stop the car, turn around and point a finger at Poindexter.

"First sign of trouble, and I'm outta here," I warn him.

"I understand. It'll be fine. I promise."

He steps out of the car with that suitcase. Then he walks towards three hoodlums, two guys and a girl, waiting at the street corner. I watch them talking, as I tap my thumb anxiously on the steering wheel. Poindexter seems to be pleading. One of the thugs, a big guy in a Mohawk, gets agitated. Knocks Poindexter to the ground with a backfist to the face!

"Shit," I mumble. Then I get out of the car.

"Hey!" I yell at them. "I called the cops! They'll be here any minute!" Actually, I didn't. Dodging a few outstanding warrants, myself.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mohawk asks, angrily stomping towards me.

"I'm the fucking cabby, that's who. That guy's my passenger-!"

Then his right fist begins to emit a yellowish glow. And when he punches me in the midsection with it, my whole body is thrown right back into the side of my cab.

X-Heads. That's what they're called. Punks who shoot up on Super X. Some kind of street drug that temporarily awakens a person's dormant mutant gene. I hear the effects are excruciating for a few seconds. But afterwards, you get superpowers for a limited time.

Mohawk and his buddies have a good laugh. But it doesn't last. The laughing never does. It always gets replaced by uncertainty when they see me get right back up unscathed. Usually the screaming and the dying follows.

I grimace at the new dent on my cab's fender, then I dust myself off.

"You don't wanna do that again," I warn him.

He doesn't listen. Why do they never listen? He throws another energy punch at me. This time, I meet it with a punch of my own. Then at the last second, I pop my adamantium claws right into his knuckles!

He starts screaming in pain like a lunatic. I retract the claws, then knock him out with an adamantium laced head-butt. He collapses.

His buddies stare at me in silence for a few seconds. Then they scuttle away into the dark alleys. I grab Poindexter by the arm, and hurriedly drag him back to the cab.

"Come on," I tell him. "This is their turf. We can't stay here."

"You said you were gonna leave at the first sign of trouble," he groggily responds.

"Yea, maybe I should have. Now get your ass back into the goddamn car!"

#

Rose opens the door. She's dressed only in a see through nightie & nightwear robe that immediately makes me regret stopping for Poindexter earlier. The smile on her face vanishes when she sees him.

"I'm not doing him for free," she remarks sharply.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "We need a place to hide out. My apartment's too far. I didn't know where else to take him. Can we please come in?"

She lets us in, then puts on a more proper robe. I grab Poindexter's suitcase from him.

"Hey-!" he protests, but immediately shuts up when I pop out the claws.

I set the case down on a glass coffee table, then I slash the locks off, and open the lid.

"I would've given you the combination," he murmurs.

"Just what I thought," I say, staring at the vials inside the case. "This is Super X! Who the fuck are you?!"

"Th- this isn't what you think. M-my name's Tobias Poindexter. Dr. Tobias Poindexter."

"Seriously? Your name actually is Poindexter?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Nuthin'."

"Logan," Rose seethes. "You brought a drug dealer into my home?!"

"I'm not a drug dealer!" Tobias insists. "Jason Sagarbarria! He's the drug dealer!"

"Who the fuck's Jason Sagarbarria?" I inquire.

"I don't know. Some guy in the Hammer Gang-"

"The Hammer Gang?!" Rose interrupts. "Weren't they involved in that turf war with the Never Mind Gang two weeks ago?! God, they said the bodies looked like they were struck by lightning!"

"I swear! I didn't know that was what they were going to use the Super X for! I thought they were just a bunch of adrenaline junkies who were into extreme sports or something. You know? Fly around the city, or outrace a train, or bench press a car. I didn't know they were going to kill people!"

"Yeah, right," I say, motioning to the suitcase. "Is that why you were going to give them a fresh supply?"

"I was trying to buy my way out!" he explains. "That's what I told them! That after this, I'm done. And then..."

"And then the big guy in the Mohawk got angry. Yea, I caught that part."

"Look, the only choice I have now is to turn myself in. Only the cops can protect me from them. You accompany me to the police station, and I'll give you a third of what those gangsters gave me."

A very tempting offer. I wonder if it's worth the risk of getting too close to the police station. But before I could give my response, somebody from outside interrupts my train of thought.

"Tobias!" a man shouts. "Tobias, you get your scrawny hide out here right now!"

"Oh, shit!" Tobias snivels. "It's him! It's Sagarbarria!"

Rose seethes at me again, "You led a gangster to my home?!"

"No, of course not!" I answer. "I made sure we weren't followed!"

Then Tobias has a realization, "Teresa. The woman earlier."

"The one that ran away?"

"Yes. The mutant power she manifested was the ability to track specific brainwaves! She tracked us here!"

"Jesus, it's like Xavier's"

"B-but I haven't resupplied them in two weeks! Depending on how often they've used their powers, the effects should be wearing off soon."

And then the whole apartment building shakes, the lights start blinking madly, and the windows shatter! Rose grabs hold of a support column to maintain her balance. Tobias falls down hard and hits the back of his head on the wood flooring. My heightened auditory perception picks up several panicked screams from everywhere in the upper floors.

"Tobias, either you come out, or I bury you inside that building!" Sagarbarria shouts again.

"It's not wearing off soon enough," I grumble. Then I head for the door.

"Logan, where are you going?!" Rose screams after me worriedly.

"I'm gonna go do what I do best."

#

There are about ten of them waiting outside. Young men and women in gang colors. I recognize two of them. The woman Tobias identified as Teresa, and the man she was with earlier. Mohawk is, as expected, nowhere in sight. He's probably nursing his wounds at home. Or maybe he bled to death where they left him. I don't really care. Behind them are a trio of lowriders. Front and center is a tall, lanky fellow with dark, long, frizzy hair. Sagarbarria, I assume.

Looks like a war zone out here. Bits and pieces of debris strewn everywhere. Car alarms blaring. People running and hiding in fear.

"That's him. That's the cabby. The guy with the steel claws," Teresa whispers to their leader.

Sagarbarria smiles at me.

"Hot damn!" he exclaims excitedly. "You're really him, aren't you? You're The Wolverine!"

"I don't go by that name anymore," I answer.

"Holy shit," he says, addressing his people. "Everybody, that's him. That's The Wolverine!" Then he turns back to me. "I'm a fan. We all are. Why do you think we're using Super X?"

"I don't know. To kill people?"

"No, man. To be like you!"

"Trust me. You don't wanna be anything like me."

"Jason, just fucking kill this guy! You saw what he did to Mariano," Teresa whispers to him again.

He impatiently shushes her. Mariano, I assume, is Mohawk.

"Look," Sagarbarria tells me. "Send out the doctor and his meds. I'll let you join us. We'll start our own new X-Men!"

"I'm a little too old to join a gang," I reply. "Besides, I've joined a team before. Didn't work out so well."

He sighs and shakes his head. "I am really disappointed it has to go like this. You're the last of your kind. I don't wanna be the guy that drives your species to extinction."

"Then don't," I respond, popping out the claws. "You and your buddies can just go on back home."

"Go back home, and do what? Be normal like everybody else? Absolutely not. I'm suppose to be different! Better! I should have been born a mutant!"

I brace myself. What's it gonna be? Optic blasts? Ice manipulation?

When his eyeballs vanish completely, I realize my mistake. His attack is gonna come from above!

Dark clouds above fire a streak of lightning right down on me! One billion volts of electricity! Doesn't help that the metal in my bones act like a conductor! I have a mutant healing factor, not an immortality factor. I can heal from any physical injury, but I can't come back from the dead.

#

"You know, I wish death is just like this," I tell Jean as we sit together under the shade of a tree. "Just you and me...together...for all eternity."

"Well, if this is death, then my husband, Scott, would be here, too, right?" she informs me.

"You woulda' broken up with him, by now. He's a nice guy and I like 'em, so you woulda' let him down easy. All amicable and all that. He would take it hard at first, but he'd survive."

She laughs.

"Maybe you're right," she says, admiring the beautiful landscape. "Maybe this isn't a dream, and it's actually the afterlife. We'll find out one day." Then she turns and looks at me with those bewitching green eyes. "But not today."

#

"What are you waiting for?!" I hear Teresa screaming. "Finish him off!"

"I'm trying!" Sagarbarria responds frantically. "It's not working!"

The whole world is blurry. I'm face down on the sidewalk. Every inch of my body is searing in pain! Like I'm burning from the inside!

"Look! Look! He's getting back up!" somebody yells.

"Fine! I'll take care of this!" Teresa announces.

"With what?!" Sagarbarria asks her. "Your mutant power is tracking brain waves. You already know where he is!"

"I'm gonna bash his brains in with a lead pipe!"

I get up to one knee. I see her boots marching towards me. I see the heavy lead pipe swinging in her hand!

I manage just in time to raise an arm, and slash the rusty, metal tube into pieces! Then with my other fist, I drive the claws into her abdomen! She pitches forward, and groans. Blood pours from the wound, covering my forearm.

"Get him! Get him!" the gang leader commands.

I discard the girl's corpse, and get on my feet. That other guy she was with earlier starts casting fireballs at me! I rush forward, smashing the flaming orbs in midair with my talons. Then when I am close enough, I leap! And sink all six adamantium blades into his chest!

He falls back, lifeless. I pull out the claws, and prepare for the next wave. There isn't any. They start retreating. I let them go, except for one. Jason Sagarbarria, I chase and corner into an empty, dead-end alleyway.

He faces me, and tries to access his powers again. I see his eyeballs flicker away, only to return.

"Performance problems?" I ask.

He falls to his knees, and shakes his fists at me in frustration and fear.

"Why?!" he cries. "Without X-Heads like me, you'll truly be alone!"

"I'm getting used to it."

Then I lop his head off.

#

Dr. Tobias Poindexter turned himself over to the police. He kept my name out of it. I assured him that Jason Sagarbarria wasn't going to come after him anymore, but he said fear wasn't his only motivation for turning himself in. He was also motivated by guilt, for his part in that horrible gang war. Guilt is something I have plenty of experience with, so I don't talk him out of it.

He paid me, as promised, but most of it went to the repairs of Rose's apartment building. Which is fair, considering I led the bad guys there.

And as for me? I'm just taking it one day at a time. Driving, drinking, fucking, fighting,...and of course, dreaming.

END


	2. Dirty Old Man Logan

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Logan or any other Marvel character, and I make no money from this fan fiction.

Dirty Old Man Logan

by

Rhonnel Ferry

Overweight, middle aged wedding dress designer, Mateo Jones checks the messages in his cellphone at Lana's Coffeehouse. It's 6pm, and he was walking home from work, when he spotted this quaint, new coffee shop. Mateo is addicted to coffee, or maybe he's addicted to the quiet, cozy ambiance of coffeehouses, or both, so he just had to stop by, get a table, and order a sugar free, nonfat Latte.

"I caught the Punisher!" the text message from his partner, Kevin, reads.

It comes with a picture of Kevin, holding up their pet kitten, Reeves, in a miniature black T-shirt with the Punisher's trademark skull logo on it.

"Aww,..." Mateo purrs.

He's in the process of texting back, when a woman yells, "You dirty old man!"

Mateo looks up in curiosity, and finds a young blond woman, maybe in her mid to late twenties, glaring right at him. He looks over his shoulder, but finds no one else there.

"Are... Are you talking to me?" he asks confusedly.

"Yea, I'm talking to you!" she shrieks. "I saw you taking pictures of me with that phone!"

"WHAT?! NO! I was just texting-!"

He's about to prove it by showing her his phone, when he notices the angry faces of the other patrons staring at him.

"Oh shit," he thinks to himself. "I'm an old, short, fat dude. She's a young, hot damsel. Who are they gonna believe?!"

He lowers his head, and quickly walks out the door.

#

Several minutes later, walking in a dark, empty road occasionally lit by street lamps towards his home, Mateo's fear begins to subside, and it gets replaced by boiling anger.

"Who does that bitch think she is?!" he snarls out loud, on the very verge of tears. "She must think she's so pretty to talk to people like that!"

He's insulted, embarrassed, and hurt. All he wants to do now is bury his face in Kevin's chest, and cry in his lover's arms.

Then he gets the feeling that he's being watched. He turns around, and finds a woman's slim figure silhouetted by the dull light from a street lamp above. It's the same girl from the coffeehouse!

"You!" he shrieks, pointing an angrily shaking finger at her. "What the hell do you want?!"

Then a thick, muscular arm suddenly locks around his neck from behind! Mateo gasps! His eyes bulge out! He wants to scream but the sound gets trapped in his throat, along with what little air he has left. The arm tightens around his neck. Mateo frantically struggles, kicking with his feet, clawing at the arm! But he is unable to escape.

"You disgusting pervert!" the girl spits at his face. "You're getting just what you deserve! You're never going to harass another girl again!"

Mateo desperately tries to take in air, but he can't. He just makes wheezing noises. He begins to feel dizzy. His arms and legs slacken.

#

That was about a week ago. I wasn't there. I read about it in the tabloids. Stuff that wasn't in the paper, I filled in with assumptions and a little imagination. Didn't even make the front page. DIRTY OLD MAN MURDERED. That was the headline. Nobody gives a shit when some old pervert gets killed. Including the cops. Mateo's body was found by the side of the road. The cause of death was asphyxiation. His wallet and phone had been taken.

The people at Lana's Coffeehouse remembered him. They told the cops that he was secretly taking photos of an attractive office girl, and that he got what he deserved. Cops figure it was a mugger, or maybe the girl's boyfriend, or maybe even one of the patrons. They're not sure. They couldn't find the girl in question. Not that they made much of an effort to look for her.

His distraught partner, Kevin Williams swears Mateo would never do the things that girl accused him of. But with the phone missing, I guess we'll never know.

I suppose the case could get solved, if say, a superhero were to take an interest. Problem is, there are no superheroes anymore. Myself included. They're all dead. And I just stopped caring. What do I do now? Well, I drive a limo to get by. But most of the time, this is what I do. Read the paper while drinking beer in cheap watering holes. Thank God the healing factor isn't what it used to be! Makes it a lot easier and a whole lot cheaper to get sauced.

"You dirty old man!" I hear some chick yell at me from somewhere to my right. "I saw you ogling me! Don't deny it! I-!"

"Go fuck yourself," I casually tell her, without taking my eyes of the paper.

Then I turn to the funny pages, and raise the bottle to my lips for another sip.

I can see the girl from the corner of my eye, quietly standing there, slack-jawed. She's a pretty girl. Guess she's not used to people dismissing her like that. Then she turns, and walks out the door. I order another bottle, and finish my paper in silence.

#

The tavern's not far from where I live, so I don't bother bringing the Chrysler. With the paper tucked under my arm, I walk home. It's a good night for a walk, I guess. Quiet, not too chilly. Can hear a police, fire truck, or ambulance siren from somewhere far away. Been hearing more and more sirens these days.

Then I see her standing under the light of a lamp post. The same girl from the bar. I suppose she's expecting an apology. She's not gonna get one. I've done worse things in my life that I ain't sorry for.

I'm about to walk by her, when my heightened olfactory senses pick up the scent of something...weird coming from behind me. And then my experience warns me of danger!

I dive out of the way, just in time to avoid getting caught by a pair of inhumanly long, large arms! I roll on the ground, spring back to my feet, and turn!

The thing that tried to grab me is a seven foot tall monstrosity! It's shaped like a hairless gorilla, has pitch black skin, and is almost completely featureless save for a pair of glowing eyes, and rows of razor sharp teeth!

With a roar, it swings one of those elongated limbs at me! I duck underneath it, and punch him just under the ribs! No bones to protect your internal organs there. It especially hurts if the guy punching you has knuckle bones laced in indestructible metal like I do!

But this son of a bitch seems to be covered in muscle! Punching him is like punching a rock covered in a damp rag. It's a weird description, but that's the closest comparison I can make. He doesn't seem discomforted by my attack at all!

He swings the arm back, and this time, I'm not fast enough to avoid it. I get smacked right upside the head! The bastard is so strong, my entire body gets catapulted several feet away. My back hits the ground hard, completely knocking the wind out of me!

Groaning, I slowly turn over to my belly to push myself up. I'm up to one knee, when the thing puts me in a tight choke-hold! I gasp for air! It's like being constricted by a cobra! I grab at his forearm with both hands, and try to break free! No good. He's too strong. I start elbowing the monster in its stomach. It proved just about as effective an attack as the punch earlier. This thing can't be hurt!

The blond girl starts skipping towards me. There's a wide, cruel smile on her face. She bends down, stares me in the eyes, and taunts me.

"You disgusting pervert," she hisses sadistically. "You're getting just what you deserve. You're never going to leer at another girl again."

I might just suffocate to death right here and now. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let her laugh at my face and badmouth me while it happens!

 _SNIKT!_

It's the metallic sound of six 7 inch metal claws extending through my fists! I swing my right arm upward, and rip out the entire left side of her face!

She staggers back. At first, she just stands there in quiet shock, as blood trickles all over her white blouse. Then she presses her hand to where her left eye used to be, and she starts wailing like a banshee!

To my relief and surprise, the black creature releases me! I quickly inhale, and get some much needed oxygen back into my starved lungs! When I turn around, I see that the monster is also howling in pain, clutching the left side of its face.

Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

I leap at the girl, and thrust all six claws into her chest! She gasps, staring down in disbelief at the metal blades that have impaled her!

I retract the claws, and step out of the way, letting her fall forward. Her blood quickly pools under her. I look back at the dark monster. He's lying flat on his stomach also. He reaches for her with one of those grotesque, long arms. Moaning in pain, she does the same. They start slowly crawling towards each other.

Some merciful part of me wants to help them. You know, let them hold hands one last time before they kick the bucket. But I don't know what they are. What if holding hands is just what they need to heal their injuries? Then I'm screwed all over again.

I poise my right fist just above the back of the girl's skull. The monster groans, like it's begging me to spare her life. But I don't speak monster, so I can't be sure.

I pop the claws into her brain, killing her instantly.

When I look back at the gorilla like creature, it's gone, leaving only an impression of its shape on the ground, like a black chalk outline for dead people.

I retract the claws into my forearm, turn around, and continue the walk home. I rub my neck. That's gonna leave a bruise. Until the healing factor fixes it anyway.

I don't know what that thing was. I don't know what SHE was. And I don't care. I suppose I should tell Kevin Williams about it, to give him closure. But I wont, because I don't care about that either.

I'm too old to care about anything anymore.

END


End file.
